


Things Nameless and Undeclared

by Lucifleur



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub, Don't copy to other sites, Established Relationship, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Light Bondage, Light CBT, M/M, Pirates, homoerotic swordfighting, light Consent Play, they have so many feelings they're not capable of talking about
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-02 07:04:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21157589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifleur/pseuds/Lucifleur
Summary: Aziraphale is sent to defeat or reform a notorious pirate captain, and who should he find but Crowley, who is having a great deal of fun being a pirate and looking very dashing while doing it.“C-Captain Stheno, please! This is most improper conduct, even for a man such as, as yourself,” Aziraphale managed, even as he subtly tried to press his cock against Crowley’s hand.





	1. Chapter 1

Second Lieutenant Ezra Fell adjusted his officer’s jacket, then stumbled once again as the ship hit a wave. They’d been sailing for weeks, and he still didn’t have his ‘sea legs.’As an angel of the Lord, he was above vomiting over the railing, he had better control of his corporation than that. But he still found it hard to keep his balance while walking on the tilting decks. Overall, Aziraphale was not enjoying life aboard the H.M.S.  _ Perseverance. _ It was all pretending to know things about naval battle tactics and six and eight bells and doing mystifying calculations involving the sun and clocks to determine their position. He’d been ordered to capture or defeat a particularly notorious pirate and joining the Royal Navy had seemed like the best way to do this. He was starting to regret this decision.

There was hardly any time for reading and hardly any space for books, not that he’d risk bringing his favorites on a  _ boat. _ And Aziraphale was sharing a cabin, too, so he had to seem to be sleeping for several hours a day. He mostly thought while he was ‘asleep,’ letting his mind wander to London, his bookshop, his favorite restaurants, evenings with Crowley, he meant, afternoon tea by himself, with a nice book. He hadn’t seen the demon in quite a while, and although he most certainly didn’t  _ miss _ him, his sardonic smile, the little quips they traded, the way his skillful fingers mapped the soft lines of...  _ Ahem, _ well. Anyway, he was starting to feel... lonely. 

His fellow officers took altogether too much delight in the command and punishment of the petty officers and seamen, and many of them, Aziraphale reckoned, had never seen a hard day’s work in their lives. He supposed he wasn’t all that better than them, however, with his miraculously acquired commission, but still. He had precious little to talk about with any of his crew members, and if they didn’t find that pirate soon, Aziraphale was sure he’d be driven to distraction. Not that finding this pirate was the purpose of the H.M.S.  _ Perseverance’s _ journey, but they were conveniently sailing through his preferred hunting grounds, or rather, hunting water. Hunting waves? In any case, all Aziraphale had to do was stop this man, the captain of the  _ Elysium. _ Funny name for a pirate ship. 

Aziraphale teetered along the deck and went below, gratefully steadying himself on the walls as he made his way to the officer’s mess. Once there, he was served a stew of some kind, with unidentifiable chunks of meat and vegetables floating in it. The cook had been keeping it warm so long that it had gone on... stewing. That was another of the downsides to being in such close quarters with so many humans, someone would notice if he stopped eating. It could be worse, he supposed, as he sat down and began resolutely eating the stew, having to chew each bite of meat a long time. 

When he had eaten as much as he could stomach, he retired to his shared cabin to find his roommate sitting up in bed, weaving a bracelet, or something. It involved a lot of cords. Aziraphale smiled politely at him then sat on his own bunk and kicked off his boots. He pulled out a book and began to read. Or rather, he tried to. His mind kept wandering, across the ocean and back to his beloved bookshop. His books were surely getting dusty, the poor dears. And the potted plant Crowley had given him must be wilted away by now. Oh dear. Aziraphale had never had the same attunement Crowley did with plants; he might not have been able to keep it alive even if he hadn’t gone to sea.

Aziraphale’s reverie was broken by the frantic clamoring alarm of the ship’s bell, and several blasts of the first mate’s whistle. His roommate nearly fell out of his bunk in his hurry to stand. 

“Pirates!” he exclaimed, running out of the room. Oh thank God, thought Aziraphale. Probably, no other naval officer had ever been quite so glad to be attacked by pirates. He pulled on his boots and grabbed his officer’s sword before dashing out into the corridor, up the narrow stairs and out onto the deck. He was met with a scene of chaos. Several gang planks were stretched between the two ships, and disreputable men were stalking across them and spilling onto the deck of the  _ Perseverance. _ Smoke from pistol fire filled the air along with the clashing of swords, grunts of effort and cries of pain. People were running and shouting and clambering up the rigging, and there was blood spilling onto the planks of the deck, spilling into rivulets that followed the topography of the woodgrain.

It had been a long time since Aziraphale had been in a battle, and he hesitated for a moment. There was something he was feeling, sensing, if everything would just slow down a moment. But there was a man and a sword, and Aziraphale brought his own sword up to parry, and there was no time to spare with thinking. The pirate swung again, forcing Aziraphale to take a step back. Aziraphale sidestepped, putting the man between him and the railing before advancing with a series of swift blows. The pirate retreated, blocking each swing of Aziraphale’s sword, until he was pressed against the railing. Aziraphale stepped in close, stamped on his foot, and elbowed him squarely in the chest, just below his collarbone. The man shouted in pain and surprise as he tumbled over backwards, dropping his sword and landing with a great splash in the water between the two ships. Aziraphale backed away, taking a moment to breathe. His mission was to defeat the pirate captain. Should he try to fight his way onto their ship? Or simply help push them back? The last thing he wanted was for the battle to end before he found their captain and... well. If he snuck onto their ship and stowed away, he could try miraculously convincing the pirate captain to begin a new law-abiding phase in his life. The next moment a voice tried to made itself heard above the noise. 

“Alright, stop! Everyone! Stop!” someone shouted. Aziraphale turned. It was the pirate captain, standing before the mizzen mast in a billowing crimson coat, with his cutlass pressed to the throat of his own captain, Captain Thompson. Could that be...? The sounds of battle were quieting around him. “I think now would be the time for you British cocksuckers to surrender, yes? Unless you want to find out what the inside of your captain’s throat looks like!” It was! The pirate captain was Crowley! His shirt was half unlaced, and his hat was tilted up and away from his grinning face, rakishly and improbably balanced on his red curls. He was wearing a pair of wire-rimmed sunglasses and a gold earring. His boots hugged his calves, and Aziraphale really mustn’t let himself get distracted by the way his britches hung on his bony hips. 

“D-drop your weapons, men,” stuttered Captain Thompson, his head tilted up and away from the blade. Aziraphale’s crew members, one by one, dropped their swords and pistols, which were collected by the pirate crew, and raised their hands in defeat. They were herded into the groups, and the pirates began tying their hands. Aziraphale had to do something. Surely, Crowley wouldn’t kill him, but still. He miraculously transported himself behind a pile of crates just behind Crowley and leapt out, his sword arcing through a downward swing. Crowley darted away just before Aziraphale would have struck his shoulder, his eyes lighting up. He shoved Captain Thompson into the grasp of another pirate and turned to face Aziraphale. 

“Angel! I thought I felt something. Fancy meeting you here,” Crowley said, not so loud anyone else would hear. He grinned, aiming a slash across his chest. Aziraphale dodged, trying to school his face into a disapproving frown. 

“Really, Crowley? Piracy? You’ve been kicking up such a fuss I’ve been told to put a stop to it. Or you,” Aziraphale replied, as they danced across the deck, slashing and blocking. Crowley sputtered. 

“I am not ‘kicking up a fuss,’” he said indignantly, advancing on the angel. “I’m, I’m... spreading anarchy! And, and terror!” He tried to thrust his sword through Aziraphale’s defenses, but he stepped out of reach, alert and light on his feet. He was made to be a soldier, after all, even if he hated raising a hand to hurt. “And besides,” added Crowley as they pressed close for a moment, the edges of their swords ringing as they slid together. “You, joining the British Navy? You must know it’s hardly a force for good.” Aziraphale grimaced, then pushed Crowley off. He did know that; he wasn’t stupid. They circled each other. 

“Well, at least they obey the law,” he rejoined, trying a sweeping cut to Crowley’s thigh. He blocked it easily. Aziraphale wasn’t trying very hard, after all. 

“Oh, that’s only because they wrote the laws, angel,” hissed Crowley, twisting his sword in an attempt to force Aziraphale’s sword out of his grip. He kept his hold. They stared at each other for a moment. Crowley snapped his fingers, and the world stopped moving around them. They were both breathing heavily. Aziraphale let the point of his sword drop and rolled his shoulder. Crowley leaned sideways, propping himself up with his cutlass, his hip jutting out to keep his balance. Surely that was bad for the blade. 

“Been a while,” said Aziraphale, gesturing with his sword. Crowley nodded.

“See here, angel. I’m sure neither of us want to be discorporated. And I certainly don’t fancy stabbing you,” said Crowley. 

“I feel much the same, dear boy,” said Aziraphale, wiping the sweat from his brow. “The paperwork alone...”

“Right. So, so, what if...” he began, the gears turning in his mind. “We could... pretend to kill each other? Go back home, I report that my career as a pirate was unfortunately cut short, you report that, upon finding me, you valiantly thwarted my wiles.”

“We could do that. But, suppose, uh...” Aziraphale trailed off.

“But?” Crowley raised an eyebrow.

“We... If... What if you... captured me first? For a few days. Because... um,” stuttered Aziraphale. 

“Right. We could defeat each other later. Because of the...” Crowley gestured vaguely, trailing off into indistinct consonants. Because it’s been too long, because Aziraphale can’t be seen voluntarily spending time with a demon, because they didn’t want to be parted again quite so soon. 

“Right!” Aziraphale agreed brightly.

“Okay. I’ll win the sword fight, then. And we’ll go from there,” said Crowley, standing upright once more. Aziraphale raised his sword, doing his best to recreate his pose from the moment Crowley had stopped time. “Ready?” Aziraphale nodded. Crowley snapped again, and the world came back, the sound slamming into Aziraphale with a vengeance. He hadn’t properly noticed it before, but most of the people on deck seemed to be shouting, cheering, booing. 

Aziraphale adjusted his grip and swung his sword at Crowley’s neck. Crowley brought his blade up and countered. He tossed his sword from one hand to the other and used his free hand to grasp Aziraphale’s wrist, pressing his thumb into the muscle and bone below the heel of his hand. Aziraphale let go of his sword entirely by mistake, and it clattered against the deck, the equatorial sun glinting off the bright metal. The point of Crowley’s sword was at Aziraphale’s throat, tilting his chin up with the faintest pressure from the flat of the blade. Aziraphale licked his lips. Crowley was still holding his wrist, and their gaze was locked, Crowley’s serpentine eyes looking at him over the rim of his dark glasses. Their audience quieted down, the fight clearly over. 

“That was a dirty trick, Crowley,” said Aziraphale breathlessly. He was truly at the demon’s mercy. He trusted him, of course, and they had a plan. But still, it was somewhat... thrilling. Crowley released his wrist.

“Dirty tricks are what I do, angel,” he said. Then in a louder voice, “Anyone else?” He glared at the subdued sailors. No one said anything. “Right! Then if you’re quite finished surrendering, and losing.” Aziraphale raised his hands in surrender. Crowley sheathed his sword and nodded at one of his crew. A large man stepped forward and tied Aziraphale’s hands in front of him. “Put this one in the brig, Big Bill.” The man paused. 

“Their brig?” he asked. Crowley rolled his eyes.

“No,  _ our _ brig, you dullard. Why would... Never mind, just go. Gogogo,” said Crowley, shooing him away. Big Bill put a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder and pushed him along, toward one of the gangplanks. “Now! He is being taken to my ship to be taught a lesson about impertinence. But any of you are welcome to board voluntarily if you join my crew. We split our loot fairly, and we have considerably fewer rules. Anyone?” One man, who Aziraphale thought might have been press ganged, stepped forward uncertainly and was met with rousing shouts from the pirate crew. 

“Good man! Tarley, take him to the quartermaster,” said Crowley. Aziraphale was shoved again, and began edging his way across the gangplank. This was much harder with his hands bound. The man joining their crew had his hands released, and Tarley flung an arm across his back, shaking him affectionately. “Right! You lot, start searching the cargo. And you lot, get up the rigging and start slashing their sails.”

“But Captain, Sambe turned his ankle last week,” said one of the pirates, gesturing at the man next to him, a slender black man with his ankle bound in scraps of cloth.

“So he did. Sambe, take a few men and look through the cabins for valuables,” said Crowley after a moment’s thought. Sambe nodded and led a few pirates below decks. Aziraphale shuffled to the end of the gangplank and stepped down onto the deck of the  _ Elysium. _ He was led below decks and down to the hold. There, Big Bill opened the door to a cell constructed of rusty iron bars, pushed him inside, and locked it behind him. Aziraphale shook himself, smoothing down his clothes as best he could with his hands tied. And then he was left alone, in the dark and the damp. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want y'all to know I'm imagining the most self-indulgent pirate outfit ever for Crowley, because he's 100% that bitch.


	2. Chapter 2

Several hours later, the door to the hold opened, and lantern light spilled in. Two men entered, but Aziraphale couldn’t have said if they had been part of the boarding party. 

“Captain Stheno humbly requests your presence in his cabin,” said one of the men with exaggerated politeness. He bowed low, with many extravagant flourishes of his hands until his companion burst into raucous laughter and slapped him on the back. He straightened up, grinning. Aziraphale pursed his lips, frowning slightly. They approached and unlocked the door. He marched out with all the dignity he could muster.

“I’d hate to be you right now,” leered the other man. 

“Oh? And why’s that?” said Aziraphale primly as they led him through corridors of the ship. 

“Have you not heard the stories of Captain Stheno? They tell tales of him in every sailor’s pub I’ve been to.”

“No, I suppose I haven’t. I don’t really patronize those sorts of establishments,” said Aziraphale. The information included with his orders had been brief.

“Oh! Oh!” began one of the men in a high pitched voice of mockery, imitating Aziraphale’s posh accent. “Oh! He doesn’t really patronize that sort establishment, Wilkins. He doesn’t patronize them!” The other man, Wilkins, laughed again. 

“Probably his first sea voyage, too,” said Wilkins. 

“And if he doesn’t know who Captain Stheno is, well, that explains it. I doubt he’d have been so  _ plucky, _ if he knew,” said the other man. 

“Well, we’ll fill you in then. Captain Stheno is the most feared pirate in the Atlantic.”

“He’s merciless, he is.”

“Part-snake, they say. And he can strike men dead with a look,” added Wilkins. 

“I thought it was that he could turn you stone.”

“I’m pretty sure you’d be dead by the time you was finished turning into stone, though, innit?”

“I s’pose so. In any case, he’s quite skilled at the art of... manipulation. I’m sure you’ll see things from his point of view soon enough,” said the man with cruel glee, knocking on a door. Crowley opened the door, no longer wearing his hat, dark glasses still in place. 

“Ah, my honored guest,” he said sardonically, gesturing Aziraphale into his cabin. Aziraphale made himself hesitate for a moment, for appearance’s sake, then stepped inside. Crowley nodded at his men, and they left as he closed the door. Crowley latched it behind them and turned to Aziraphale, his smile predatory. “And your name, sir?” This was a game they played, how their aliases, their characters would interact. 

“Fell, Ezra Fell,” said Aziraphale, swallowing nervously. 

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Captain Lysander Stheno. And do you know why you’re here?”

“I believe you said something to the effect of teaching me a lesson for my impudence. Although I hadn’t expected to have your personal attention, sir,” said Aziraphale, his eyes following Crowley around the room as he circled him. He stilled and took a step closer to Aziraphale from behind.

“Oh, I think you’ll find you’re going to receive a great deal of my... personal attention,” said Crowley, pressing himself against Aziraphale’s back and snaking his hands around to catch his hips. Aziraphale stiffened. 

“S-sir, I, I must protest, surely, I—oh!” stuttered Aziraphale, breaking off as Crowley pressed his half-hard cock against the soft swell of his arse. Crowley snickered, his breath puffing across Aziraphale’s neck. 

“Tell me, Ezra, what’s your rank?” muttered Crowley. “You don’t strike me as an able seamen. Nor a first mate, although you were quite brave earlier.” Aziraphale clenched his hands uselessly into fists, still tied in front of him. 

“N-no, I’m, I’m a second lieutenant, Captain,” said Aziraphale, his heart beating out of his chest. Crowley was hot as he pressed against him, and already his own body was starting to respond, even though Crowley had barely touched him. Crowley skated his hands under his jacket, tenderly stroking his stomach through his shirt before teasing his nipples with feather-light touches. 

“And how long have you been a sailor?” said Crowley, pressing his nose to the base of Aziraphale’s skull. He brought one hand up to card through his white blond curls, twining one around his finger. 

“J-just these few weeks,” said Aziraphale. His character Ezra would surely pull away, but Aziraphale didn’t want to. Crowley’s scent was enveloping him, woodsmoke and cedar and the good smell of rich earth, and his slender fingers were trailing teasing touches up and down his chest as Crowley held him in place. 

“Ah, I think I’m beginning to see the picture. Your father bought a commission for you, hmm? Your family probably thought sending you to sea would make a man of you.”

“I think you’ll find I’m already a man,  _ sir _ ,” huffed Aziraphale. 

“And you’re not feeling unmanned by this experience?” hissed Crowley, suddenly cupping Aziraphale’s erection through his britches. He gasped and tried to back away from the touch, but found himself trapped against the captain’s lithe body. “Defeated, captured, and so... possessed.”

“C-Captain Stheno, please! This is most improper conduct, even for a man such as, as yourself,” Aziraphale managed, even as he subtly tried to press his cock against Crowley’s hand. 

“I could say the same of you, Mr. Ezra Fell. And I’ve noted that your protestation didn’t include you wanting me to stop, only that this was improper. This is a pirate ship, Ezra, we’re all about...” Crowley trailed off to stroke Aziraphale’s hardening cock more firmly, pushing his own erection against him once more. “Impropriety.”

“Oh! Oh,” said Aziraphale breathlessly, pushing his hips forward to chase the stimulation. 

“And not a soul has to know, Ezra. I’m a good judge of men, and this is something we have in common. Have you ever been  _ touched _ by a man before? Probably not, living a sheltered life like that. But oh, you’ve thought of it, secretly,” hissed Crowley, pressing a kiss to his neck. 

“No, I-I’ve never been...” Aziraphale trailed off. He had, of course. Crowley himself had... several times, but it was all part of the game. “But yes, I... I have thought of it.” Crowley slowly untied his hands and put his hands on his shoulders, turning the man-shaped being toward him. 

“There’s no shame here, Ezra,” murmured Crowley. His dark glasses had disappeared at some point, and his amber eyes were blazing. He slowly, slowly, put his hands around Aziraphale’s waist and pulled him closer, closer. Aziraphale could feel himself melting under the demon’s gaze, in his arms. This was his favorite part. The moments just before he gave in to the temptation. It wasn’t a true Temptation; Crowley hadn’t been using any of his demonic power, but Aziraphale enjoyed it plenty. 

“Please,” he breathed, and Crowley kissed him most ardently, slipping his tongue between his lips. Aziraphale put his hands on Crowley’s back, pulling him closer still to press their hips and groins together. He moaned into their kiss, and Crowley gently bit his bottom lip and pulled back slightly, their foreheads pressed together. “I’ve missed...  _ this _ ,” whispered Aziraphale, kissing him again.  _ You, I’ve missed you. _ Crowley nodded, humming his agreement as he shrugged off his jacket, letting it drop to the floor. Crowley knew what he meant, and for that Aziraphale was grateful. There were some things he couldn’t say aloud, not even when it was just the two of them. That fear was still there, cold and heavy, even though there had been so many years with no heavenly consequences. Crowley pulled away just enough to lead the way to a curtained alcove and push the cloth aside.

“Crowley!” started Aziraphale indignantly. Crowley stopped, confused, his brow furrowed. “I’m not going to... in a  _ hammock, _ don’t be absurd!” 

“Is that all? I thought something was the matter,” said Crowley, breaking into a smile. He snapped his fingers, and the hammock was replaced with a bunk that didn’t quite make sense for the size of the alcove. 

“Oh, thank you, dearest,” said Aziraphale, taking off his jacket and boots. 

“Anything for you, angel,” said Crowley, snapping again, undressing himself down to his knickers. “Here, let me help.” He started unbuttoning Aziraphale’s shirt, carefully working from top to bottom, his fingers just barely brushing against his skin. Aziraphale took this opportunity to sink his hands in Crowley’s luxurious auburn hair, combing his fingers through the fine strands. A soft little sound escaped Crowley’s lips, and he reached up to take one of Aziraphale’s hands. He undid his cuffs, then pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist. Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat. Crowley took his other hand and repeated the process. 

Aziraphale let the shirt fall away from him and pressed himself to Crowley, gathering the demon up in his arms and kissing him softly. Crowley’s fingertips dug into his back, and he broke the kiss to press his lips to Aziraphale’s neck and throat, making him gasp with pleasure, his eyes fluttering shut. Crowley guided him to sit on the edge of the bunk and knelt before him, trailing his hand up his calf. He paused a moment, looking up at him with a smile curling his sinfully beautiful lips. 

“Crowley, please,” said Aziraphale softly, a flush gathering on his chest. Crowley smiled wider and began carefully removing Aziraphale’s stockings, his tongue darting out to taste the skin revealed. Aziraphale bit his lip as Crowley rose and gently pressed him back into the bed and pulled down his britches and knickers. He lifted his hips obligingly, and Crowley rewarded him with another kiss, pressing his lips wetly to Aziraphale’s thighs and making him gasp. His hard cock was resting hotly against his stomach, and he reached for Crowley, pulling him closer with a sigh. 

“And how can I pleasure you tonight, angel?” he purred, running a hand up and down his side, teasing at the soft rolls of flesh in such a way as to make it rather difficult for Aziraphale to answer. 

“If—ah! Perhaps, mmmph, perhaps you could, uh, teach me that lesson you mentioned,” he managed.

“Yeah?”

“Y-yes, I think might n-need to be restrained,” said Aziraphale, flushing in embarrassment. 

“You think?” murmured Crowley, drawing his finger down from Aziraphale’s collarbone to his chest, rubbing and petting his nipple. Aziraphale gasped and nodded. Crowley snapped once more, and a set of padded cuffs appeared, attached to the bed posts. “Ready?”

“Ready, dear boy,” said Aziraphale. Crowley paused a moment, sitting back on his heels and staring blankly at the wall. “Crowley?”

“Yes, right. I was just thinking we need a way to distinguish Ezra’s protests from yours. Since that seems to be the...”  _ The kind of game we’re playing this time. Pretending you don’t want this, don’t want me. _

“I doubt  _ I’ll _ be protesting anything,” said Aziraphale, glancing down at his hard cock. “You know what I...” _ What I like, what I don’t like, how to drive me mad with pleasure and guide me safely back to you. _

“Still,” said Crowley. He produced a small bell from nowhere and hung it from the curtain rod. “Ring the bell if you want me to stop, alright? Here, try it out, for practice.” Aziraphale sent a little of his influence that way, and the bell tinkled merrily. 

“Satisfied?”

“Oh, I’m ssso far from sssatisfied, angel,” hissed Crowley, drawing himself up. “But yes, now we can begin.” He closed his eyes a moment, collecting himself, then opened them again. “Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying yourself, pet. I know how to make it good for you,” he growled.

“Captain, please, I-I don’t think we ought t—” started Aziraphale, moving to cover his chest, but Crowley grabbed one of his wrists, hard. 

“Now then, Ezra, do you really want to anger me?” he said, letting his forked tongue spill from his lips, tilting his head sharply, unnervingly snake-like. Aziraphale swallowed, flushing with arousal. Crowley forced his arm back, wrapping the padded cuff around his wrist and securing it. “Now, I think some punishment is in order. You tried to kill me, Ezra, and after your captain had ordered you to surrender.” Crowley tutted disapprovingly, grabbed his other wrist and wrestled it into the embrace of the other cuff. “Tell me, have you ever touched yourself while imagining, perhaps, a gentleman friend of yours? Or perhaps a dashing thief? Or even... a pirate?” He sat back, kneeling between his legs, and regarded Aziraphale’s erection. 

“Sir! The very idea! O-of course not! I have never polluted myself thus, it would be t-terribly sinful,” Aziraphale said with false indignation. Another lie, of course. They had both been alive for a long time, and they’d seen many different peoples approve and disapprove of masturbation. Aziraphale didn’t think there was a direct edict about it, especially in regards to angels. 

“No? Then allow me to introduce you to... bodily pleasures,” purred Crowley, wrapping his fingers around Aziraphale’s cock. He jerked in his bonds, crying out and turning his face away as his back arched, pushing his cock against his hand. “Shh, sh sh sh, just let yourself feel good.” He began slowly stroking his cock, dragging his fingertips over the soft, hot skin. He bent his head and flicked his tongue across the head of his cock, making Aziraphale gasp and squirm beneath him. 

“Please, we can’t, I mustn’t,” panted Aziraphale. He was rather enjoying playing the blushing virgin. 

“Oh, but we can, Ezra. You seem like a man who enjoys life’s pleasures, why not this one?” said Crowley. He sucked the tip into his mouth, running his tongue under the foreskin and tasting the salt-sweat flavor. Aziraphale’s hips bucked at the sensation, driving his cock further into Crowley’s hot, wet mouth. He laughed, low in his throat, and pulled off with an obscene pop, licking his lips. Aziraphale whimpered at the loss, then bit his lip, looking away. Crowley stroked him once again, smirking insufferably. “You want more?” he asked teasingly. 

“I-I thought this was supposed to be a punishment,” said Aziraphale, a challenge glinting in his storm blue eyes. 

“All in good time, all in good time. Why? Eager for pain, are we?” said Crowley, raising an eyebrow. He cupped his hands under Aziraphale’s thighs, bending his legs and spreading them apart. Aziraphale flushed as Crowley trailed his fingers up his inner thighs to brush at the soft skin at the top. 

“Oh! Oh,” gasped Aziraphale. Crowley’s fingers were teasing through his pubic hair, inching closer to his cock, but he pulled his hands back, running gentle touches down to his sac. 

“Now, about that punishment you mentioned,” said Crowley, grinning wickedly. Without further warning, he lightly slapped Aziraphale’s testes. Aziraphale squeaked loudly, tensing against the bed. 

“Oh, Captain! Please, have mercy. I-I didn’t mean it,” gasped Aziraphale. 

“No, I think you did, Ezra,” smirked Crowley. He did it again, forcing a breathy moan of pain and arousal from the angel. 

“N-no, please, Captain Stheno, I’m s-sorry,” said Aziraphale, his body awash with a shivering heat. 

“Sorry for what?” prompted Crowley, delivering several more light smacks in quick succession. Aziraphale howled. 

“S-s-sorry for dueling you, sir,” he answered. Crowley stroked his perineum, and Aziraphale began to relax. 

“And?” said Crowley. Aziraphale said nothing, confused. And? Crowley slapped his scrotum again.

“Ahh! And, and I’m sorry for disobeying my captain’s orders,” he gasped, thinking quickly. Crowley leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his stomach. 

“There’s a good boy, Ezra,” he crooned. Aziraphale bit his lip, squirming under him. “Feeling properly chastened?” He nodded, and Crowley licked the tip of his cock before sitting up straight. Aziraphale shifted his hips, looking up at him expectantly. “Yes?” 

“It’s... I...” Aziraphale trailed off. 

“Do, d’you want something?” asked Crowley, feigning confusion. He raised his eyebrows, trying not to smile. 

“Captain, please,” murmured Aziraphale, batting his eyelashes. 

“Please what, Ezra? Please let you go? Please return you to your countrymen?” said Crowley, intent on making him ask for it. Aziraphale tugged on his restraints, pouting. 

“Captain Stheno, Lysander, won’t you please fuck me? I’m sure I could be convinced to take up a life of piracy if you fuck my virgin ass with your long, thick cock,” said Aziraphale, so temptingly. Crowley had to pause for a moment, arousal coiling in the pit of his hips.   
“But of course,” he growled, leaning over to kiss him soundly. “And where did Ezra Fell learn to talk like that, angel?” he added in a whisper. 

“Oh, hush,” said Aziraphale, quieting him with another kiss. Crowley prepared him with a snap of his fingers, and Aziraphale gasped. “Captain! Sir, w-what did...?

“Have you not heard the stories, sweet thing?” said Crowley, smirking. “I have magic, and they do say I’m the son of a forgotten serpent god.” He guided his cock to Aziraphale’s slick, loosened hole and pushed into his hot, wet tightness with a groan. Aziraphale wrapped his legs around him, and Crowley gripped his plush thighs and began to sinuously move his hips. 

“Oh! Oh, my dear,” said Aziraphale breathlessly, starting to slip out of character. “Feels so good, oh, Crowley!” Crowley’s cock was filling him in the best way, pressing against his prostate gland on each push in, never pulling out enough to leave him empty. 

“Fuck, so good for me, my angel,” said Crowley through gritted teeth, moving faster. He leaned over to lick open-mouthed kisses to Aziraphale’s collarbone, feeling his hot, hard cock pressed against his lithe stomach. And they moved together, sweat slick, sharing breaths, hidden from the sky. 

Perhaps it was silly, but Aziraphale always felt safer when he and Crowley were indoors, secreted away somewhere. Of course, She couldn’t be kept out by a mere ceiling, and even the archangels could peer through a building if they put their minds to it, but he felt better just the same. He’d never expressed this to Crowley; there were many things he’d never expressed to Crowley. But here and now, Crowley was in his arms, warm and real, caring and kind, even if he wouldn’t hear of it. 

Crowley ran his hand through his halo of curls, and Aziraphale very nearly purred at the sensation. His cock was leaking, and he could feel the curls of an orgasm spiraling tighter inside him as Crowley rocked his hips. His rhythm stuttered, then he fucked his hips forward once, twice more, and Aziraphale felt wet warmth spreading inside him. He looked up at Crowley’s face, his mouth hanging open, eyes closed, and felt a swelling of pride. It was him giving Crowley such ecstasy, and this side of Crowley was given to him alone, never entrusted to anyone else. Crowley pulled out his softening cock and curled forward to rest his forehead against Aziraphale’s, smiling softly. Aziraphale, forgetting all about the cuffs and thereby causing them to release his wrists, brought his hands up to hold Crowley, tracing the jut of his shoulder blade. Crowley snaked a hand between them and wrapped his fingers around Aziraphale’s erection, making him gasp and rut up into his grip. 

“Gonna come for me, angel?” Crowley whispered. Aziraphale nodded, biting his lip. Crowley stroked up and down his cock a few more times before Aziraphale was spilling over his fingers, toes curling, breath catching in his throat. Crowley waved a hand, cleaning himself and Aziraphale, then lay down next to him. The rhythm of their breathing gently pulled Aziraphale back to himself. He... he wanted to say it. He’d wanted to say it many times, but he’d always stopped himself. He got as far as taking a breath in, then closed his mouth. Saying it would somehow make it real, undeniable. Of course, anyone watching would know how much... So perhaps it wouldn’t matter if he said it or not. But Aziraphale merely curled closer to Crowley and pressed a kiss to his bony shoulder. Crowley hummed sleepily and loosely flung an arm around him, luxuriating in the angel’s warmth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, Stheno is one of two immortal sisters of Medusa who also have snakes for hair

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos fuel my gay ass <3
> 
> Please feel free to check out my website at https://kateglittoris.wordpress.com/


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